I come home. The kitchen is clean. Water the succulents planted in a pair of old boots that I couldn’t throw out or wear. Step through the forest of threads on the floor and slice through paper with my finger to find bills I do not want to pay. Weave through the piles of stuff I am taking to my friend, a charity, the dump. Tap my foot to music, wishing second- floor-dancing was not elephant loud. Float.
Crash. The glass shatters to the floor. I am gasping, grasping my head, gaping-open mouth. What is going on? I’ve woken up, but I was never asleep. I can see more things from this ground-supported angle than I’ve seen five foot eight inches above the ground. My heart is aching, bleeding out, though my hands are covered in nothing but sweat. What have I done?
Life? Is this living? This awareness of the gap in space and time that I try to occupy? The awareness of so much moving around me that I blocked from my conscience? Time is a buzzer going off for laps. Plans and activities are hummingbird wings blurring in the same path over and over.
What broke the ice I was trapped beneath? Am I a fish out of water? Is this oxygen fire or candy? I want to go back to drowning, at least I knew where I was. No! Of course I do not. But it was pleasant to drift. Now I am…sitting.
That’s what broke it – the glow, the joy, the golden fog of rolling folds of cloth. And of what? A robe? If this is the hem, what is the rest like? A cascading fountain of foaming diamond sparkles on a drenching gold torrent.
A hand, like mine, except the blood shows on his palm, a stain-scar, offered again to help me stand up. The fog lifts with me, cascading over my shoulder with folds of luminous certainty.
Oh yes, the hand was under the ice. It broke the chain, and was pierced, the blood flowed out as it pulled me through…I shudder, shiver. Warm gold, joy, peace around me. Why would I ever leave?
The car ahead slows five miles under on the interstate, and I feel the ice on my chest thicken as I knuckle-white hold the wheel. I’m late, time ticks on, and people yell in my head for all the tasks I am late to begin. Forgive? Incompetence. Be patient? No getting ahead. It only takes a dragon whisper to thicken the icicles in my heart. Breaking, broken only to grow and grow again. Diamond tears, the glow of a scarred hand under my chin, and open my eyes to the world. He is with me, one day at a time as I journey to the Son.
God, help me to see more clearly, pursue You without turning back to my old habits, and remember You are there no matter where I wander. Thank You for Your love! Amen.